


Don't Fear the Reaper

by SHSLWhoa



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age Difference, Angst, Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, McReyes Week, Post-Recall, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8687785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHSLWhoa/pseuds/SHSLWhoa
Summary: Many years have passed since Overwatch's disband and the death of Gabriel Reyes. Jesse Mccree has grown as a man his own way and answered the recall. When teacher and student reunite, Mccree must square off against Reaper. Can Mccree pull him back from the edge or is the man known as Reyes truly dead?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction in a long time. The story was something I had been brewing in my head for awhile, but McReyes week on tumblr is what finally pushed me to get it written out.

Jesse Mccree was never a man to stress before a mission. He sat within the archway of a second floor window with his back relaxed against warm stone. His signature cowboy hat tipped forward, it looked like Mccree was asleep if not for the rising smoke from his cigar and the occasional exhale from his chest. The hot Dorado sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, mixing red with purple as twilight encroached. It was easy to tell that something was off. The town that would typically be buzzing with night life was all too quiet. The residents knew something was going down tonight and were smart to stay inside and lock their doors.  
  
Mccree inhaled deeply, the end of his cigar flaring red. It hadn't been long since the Overwatch recall had been issued. Up until then, Mccree had lead a pretty simple life. He would travel, drink, smoke, sometimes spend the night with a pretty thing whose name he never remembered, and occasionally beat the tar out of folks who were up to no good. Mccree remembered his latest run in he had with some Talon agents aboard a passenger train. It was shortly after that Mccree had gotten the recall. He had been hesitant at first. Overwatch had been disbanded because everyone thought they had too much authority. Sure, the world was going to hell nowadays, but what was the point in saving people who didn't want your help? At least, that's what Mccree would of thought before seeing the folks on that passenger train. Yeah, maybe Overwatch was illegal now, but so was lots of other stuff that Mccree liked.  
  
This would be his first mission since rejoining. Nothing too fancy. Winston had asked him to investigate some local gang activity. Gangs were typical everywhere nowadays, but Winston had mentioned something about “unusual activity patterns”. The rest had gone in one ear and out the other. Mccree was a man who valued action over words. He'd chosen to go in alone. Mccree knew how to deal with gang members. Having been one himself at one point in his life, it wasn't hard to think like them. He'd be in and out. Too easy.  
  
The sound of shoes against cobblestone caught Mccree's attention. He tilted the brim of his hat upward with his mechanical hand and peered down into the alleyway. Two men had stopped below him. They looked around cautiously, completely unaware to Mccree who sat perched above them. Both men carried guns and skeleton tattoos coated their skin and glowed faintly in the dark.  
  
“It ain't too far now. Once we meet up, we just gotta worry about getting everything moved with the others,” one man says in Spanish. His companion makes no sign that he heard him, just keeps looking around as if expecting something. It's easy to become suspicious when you are being suspicious yourself. At least it looked like Winston's lead had payed off. It was time to get to work. The only warning the first man has is the cigar end which bounces lightly off his head as it falls from above. He looks up just in time as Mccree's foot comes next. The heel of Mccree's boot drives into the man's face and knocks him out cold. The second man curses and barely has enough time to ready his gun before Mccree has already moved in past the man's range and driven a fist into the man's gut. Another instant knock out. The second man crumples to the floor next to the first one. Mccree preferred to fight with a gun in his hand, but a brawl every now and again was refreshing and reminded him of his training back when he was fresh blood in Overwatch.  
  
Stepping past the unconscious men, Mccree began his trek through the streets. By now, the red from the sky was gone, hiding Mccree in the darkness unlike his targets who's gang tattoos now beamed brightly in the night. He immediately caught sight of seven of them as he came around a corner, ducking back just as quickly to avoid being seen. They stood by a truck filled with cargo cases, discussing among one another in Spanish.  
  
“Take it to the trade point. Don't piss em' off. I don't want to mess anymore with those bastards then we gotta.” a member says to another. Mccree is too far to hear the rest of the conversation, but he watches as two of the gang members get in the truck and drive off, heading in the direction of a large complex which stands out against the other buildings. Seems to be a trade off going on. Typical between gangs, but who was the other party? Once the truck was out of sight, Mccree stepped out from his hiding spot. The sound of his spurs caught the attention of the thugs and Mccree was suddenly held at gun point by five separate barrels.  
  
“Evenin'. I don't suppose you folks would mind hightailing it out of here without a fight, would ya?” Mccree asks casually as if he wasn't about to get gunned downed in an alleyway. The men don't react immediately to Mccree's words, holding their fire which makes Mccree pause. “Ah, I reckon ya'll don't speak English, do ya?”  
  
A gang member curses under his breath and shouts at the others to shoot. Gunfire cuts through silence as Mccree barely manages to roll to cover behind a dumpster. Well that could of gone better. He waits for what seems like forever for the random shooting to stop, clutching a flashbang in his hand while he sits. When the gang members move close to see if he is dead, that's when Mccree makes his move. He emerges from his hiding place, tossing the flashbang which goes off with a loud pop and leaves all five gangsters blinded. Within moments, the gang members lay wounded on the floor, their gun shot wounds in precise but nonlethal locations. Mccree walks past a couple of the men who groan in pain in order to press the heel of his boot onto the chest of one of the gangsters.  
  
“English?”  
  
“Go fuck yourself.” the gang member bites back in English. Mccree chuckles at the feisty response before pressing his foot down harder. The man coughs and spits out foul curses in response.  
  
“Now I'm gonna ask you real kindly,” Mccree speaks with a grin, pushing the brim of his hat up with Peacekeeper's barrel before aiming it back at the man underneath his foot. “What's this I've been hearin' bout a trade off?”  
  
“L-Like I'd tell you! You think you are something, shit bag!? Just you wait till those motherfuckers in black find you! You won't be smiling then, asshole!” The gangster laughs out between pained breaths. Mccree sighs before giving the man a swift kick to the head, knocking him unconscious. Anything to shut that guy up. Still, Mccree had a sinking feeling he already knew just who the people in black were gonna turn out to be. He hurried along the pavement, following the route the gang's truck had taken until he found himself at the entrance to the large complex he had seen earlier. From a distance, this place hadn't looked too special, but it was obvious now to Mccree that something bigger than local gangs was going on here. Mccree made his way inside with ease. If there had been tighter security, they were no where to be seen now. As he made his way up a staircase and through a narrow hall, Mccree caught the faint sound of voices. He crouched down low to the floor, making his way to an overhang where he could see down below to the first floor. The first thing Mccree recognized was the sight of the truck that had gotten away earlier along with the two gang members that had been accompanying it. The next thing he noticed was that the gang members weren't alone. There were four other men present. No. Not just men. Soldiers in black.  
  
Mccree watched as the lead soldier conversed with the gangsters as the remaining soldiers moved and traded different supply cases from the truck. Mccree's canine sunk into his lower lip. He recognized those uniforms from the train that had been heading for Houston. They were Talon agents. Whatever was being traded couldn't be good, but why would an organization like Talon be helping out a small gang like this? He cursed quietly. If Mccree had known there was gonna be Talon agents, he might of requested back up. Just might of. In any case, Winston's suspicions had been confirmed. Mccree would have to make this quick and then radio in back to base. He counted out the men below. Six of them. The same number of rounds in Peacekeeper's cylinder. He rose slowly from his knees. Breathing deeply, he focused his senses. His pupils dilated as all six targets became marked in his sight. Mccree exhaled before tightening his grip around Peacekeeper. His draw seemed instantaneous as gunshots echoed loudly against metal walls. The six men crumpled in unison, following Peacekeeper's roar with nothing but silence. Mccree basked in it for a moment before holstering his gun with a chuckle. Making his way down to the truck, he confirmed that all six men were dead. The kills had been instant as expected of a sharpshooter like Mccree. He doubted they even realized just what had happened before the end. He knocked one of the dead Talon agents with the side of his boot. The less Talon agents the better. Mccree approached the truck, popping open the top of the nearest supply case. It was filled to the brim with firearms and supplies. Not your run of the mill stuff either. There was high grade Talon weaponry being exchanged here.  
  
“Now why on earth would Talon be makin' deals with small fry like these clowns?” Mccree reached into his shirt, retrieving the communicator he had tucked safely beneath his chest plate armor. He pressed down the blue button on the sleek looking device and held the speaker to his mouth.  
  
“Deadeye to Wild Thing. Wild Thing, do you copy? I got some hot goods courtesy of our good ol' friends at Talon.”  
  
The communicator remained silent before static buzzed out and a deep voice answered.

 

“...Uh... this is Mccree, right?”  
  
“Don't go using my real name. That's what the code names are for!” Mccree groaned, scratching the back of his neck.  
  
“Symmetra's communicators operate on a secure line. There is no need for code names... Besides, I don't really like the name you picked out for me...”  
  
“You don't like Wild Thing? Well don't worry, buddy. I'll think of something else.” Mccree laughs and looks back towards the supplies. “Anyway, I already cleared out the riff raff. This cowboy's ready to come home.”  
  
“Understood. I'll notify-”  
  
The deafening sound of a gunshot rang out and Mccree stared at his empty hand in stunned surprise. The communicator he had been holding now laid in pieces of the floor, completely destroyed with amazing precision. Mccree quickly took cover behind the truck, drawing Peacekeeper out once more. It was a sniper and an expert one at that. A shot like that couldn't of been an accident. It was a warning shot.  
  
“Shit. That's what I get for being careless.” Mccree gritted his teeth, peeking out from his hiding spot. No other enemies had charged him yet. Perhaps he could sneak around and take the sniper out from close range? It be risky to leave cover, but it was better then staying put and letting the sniper pick him off from a different angle. As Mccree prepared to make a run for the next cover spot, he suddenly halted. Something was wrong. He felt the air around him grow cold and his senses were screaming at him to turn around. Mccree spun back, firing directly behind him before he even had a chance to see what was there. He stumbled back from the car, catching a quick glimpse of retreating shadows which quickly disappeared. Mccree made a dash for it, escaping into one of the connecting hallways for protection.  
  
“What the hell was that!?” Mccree's heart pounded loudly in his chest. He might not be the smartest, but he knew danger when he saw it. How had that thing suddenly appeared behind him? He doubted that had been the sniper. A sniper wouldn't risk closing the distance that drastically with a target. Whatever it was, Mccree knew facing it head on would be trouble. His spurs jingled loudly as he ran back towards the staircase where he had been before. Hitting the stairs, Mccree gazed over his shoulder. Black shadows and smoke trailed across the floor, chasing after Mccree like a serpent. There went any hope that Mccree's eyes had been playing tricks on him. The blackness climb the stairs with ease, sneaking and sliding between openings to close the distance on Mccree as he made it to the top and into one of the complex's entry rooms. Mccree fired at it again. The shots broke through the shadows, making large holes that hung there before slowly re-closing. Bullets didn't seem to harm the smoke, but they at least deterred it. Mccree backed away as the darkness swirled, taking on solid form for the first time. From the shadows emerged a man dressed in all back. His outfit was decorated with belts and ammo cartridges. Where his face should be was a bone white skull mask and the entire outfit was brought together by a black coat with the hood pulled up. If this man had been going for a theme, he had certainly nailed it. If anything, Mccree felt a bit embarrassed. This had been who he had ran from? He looked like a heavy metal reject.  
  
“Just who are you suppose to be? You missed Halloween.” Mccree jeered. He held Peacekeeper aimed at the man's face, but the stranger acted as if it were nothing. It was difficult to read the man's intentions with his face covered. When a warped, dark voice resonated from behind the skull, it caught Mccree by surprise.  
  
“Says the man dressed like a cowboy.”  
  
The man in the mask raised his hands which were covered in metal gauntlets that made his fingers look like claws. Mccree must of blinked because suddenly the unarmed man was holding two shotguns. Mccree fired, barely missing the man as he moved effortlessly and closed in. Despite his ridiculous appearance, this man was no pushover. He moved easily, firing devastating blasts from his shotguns and Mccree barely managed to keep up, dodging and shooting back when he could. Mccree knew he would be overpowered soon if he didn't act fast. He ducked as the man fired a shotgun blast that rang over Mccree's head. Rolling to the side, Mccree made a break for it, turning the corner and jumping the iron railing to exit the complex from the second floor. His eyes scanned the area frantically as he hit the ground. Close quarters would be devastating with those shotguns. He began to sprint. If he could get some distance between them, Mccree was sure he could out-gun the stranger. His thoughts of a battle plan dissipated as the shadows circled and formed directly in front of him. Mccree attempted to skid to a stop but it was too late. He ran directly into the darkness and the smoke curled around his body. The sensation was chilling and, for a moment, Mccree's body froze from the shock. He barely registered the hard press of a shotgun pushed to the back of his shoulder before his body went flying forward into the pavement. Mccree screamed. The shot had been point blank. A large amount of blood had splattered on the floor which now rapidly pooled beneath his body. The searing pain shook through Mccree as he attempted to push himself up with his good arm. In his peripheral, he could see the man in the mask approaching. Mccree gritted his teeth and prepared for a death blow which didn't come as the man paused and pressed a clawed hand to the side of his head.  
  
“Secure the supplies. I've taken care of the opposition.” the masked man spoke into a hidden communicator, turning to look back towards the complex. He was silent as whoever was on the other end replied. Mccree watched him cautiously. The masked man wasn't paying attention to him anymore and why should he when Mccree was a bloody mess on the ground? This would be Mccree's last chance. His good arm slowly moved to his belt careful to avoid attention. His hand closed around one of his flash bangs as the masked man suddenly turned back to look at Mccree. He froze, locking his gaze with the empty eye sockets of the skull mask. The masked man raised a shotgun to aim at his victim. It was only now with the barrel staring him in the face, that Mccree took a good look at the firearm.  
  
“You are still nothing but a pathetic runt.” The warped voice of the man spoke out from behind the mask. Mccree glared him down. His vision was starting to blur from blood loss. With one last push of strength, Mccree tossed the flash bang between them. It went off with a brilliant light, causing his assailant to step back. Mccree forced himself forward, rolling into a standing position. The pain in his shoulder was intense, but he pushed himself on pure adrenaline. Closing the distance between them, he stood with Peacekeeper pressed directly against the man's chest.  
  
“Now, why don't you tell me exactly what you plan to do with that cargo in there.” Mccree spoke through labored breaths. His shoulder was jacked to hell, but at least he finally had this strange guy on the defensive. “You're from Talon, ain'tcha? So what's Talon got to gain from doing weapon deals with backwater gangs?” The man in the mask made no attempt to counteract or answer Mccree's questions. He stared silently at Mccree for what seemed like forever. Just as Mccree was about to get impatient, a bone chilling chuckle echoed from the man.  
  
“Same old tricks too.”  
  
Mccree stared in confusion. This guy had some screws loose in the head. He frowned and pushed the barrel of his gun harder against the man's chest.  
  
“Unless you want that to be your last words, I suggest you answer my questions.”  
  
Pain suddenly bloomed in his chest, letting Mccree know he had been shot again. He felt his body stumble backwards as his mind was racing to catch up with what was happening. The man in the mask still hadn't moved. He wasn't the shooter. Mccree had been so preoccupied with this monster of a man that he had forgotten about the sniper and now a single bullet wedged itself in his chest. Mccree fell back into the pool of blood he had made on the floor this time laying face up. He had really fucked up now. There had been a small window of opportunity and Mccree had fucked it up. His vision was starting to go. He could hear the masked man's footsteps echoing loudly in his ears as the man came close. Mccree looked up through drooping eyelids. His gun arm shook as he weakly attempted to lift Peacekeeper, but the masked man kicked the gun out of Mccree's hand, sending it flying out of Mccree's line of sight. The man looked down at him. Mccree gave a defeated chuckle. From far away, he could hear the faint sound of gun fire, but he was too far gone to fully pinpoint it. Folks say that when you die, the Grim Reaper comes for your soul. Who knew that it would literally be a guy in a skull mask? What a sorry way to go. The man in the mask continued to stare down at Mccree as if planning to just watch Mccree slowly die. Mccree unwillingly stared back, taking in the features of the mask before his vision would be gone forever. Suddenly, there was shouting. The man in the mask finally turned his gaze away to look at something afar. Darkness formed and the man disappeared, leaving Mccree to now stare up at the night sky which was littered with stars. The sounds of fighting continued and Mccree felt someone holding him.  
  
“Stay with me, love! We are getting you out of here!”  
  
Mccree relaxed and let his eyes finally shut. He felt someone pick him up and begin carrying him.  
  
“Yeah... I'd definitely rather see stars in the end.”  
  
Succumbing to blood loss, Mccree finally fell unconscious. A few blocks away, a woman ran across rooftops, creating distance between herself and the enemy. Using a grappling hook from her wrist, she maneuvered to a higher vantage point before looking through the scope of her sniper rifle. She watched as the two Overwatch agents moved their wounded comrade into a transporter before stepping in themselves. One was a giant of a man covered head to toe in armor like out of medieval times. The other was a petite girl who's chronal accelerator flashed brightly on her chest. The woman behind the scope furrowed her eyebrows. Twice now that little insect had buzzed around her and managed to escape the spider's web. The woman's reticle hovered over the female agent's head. If not for the giant man's shield, she could easily remove that annoying bug right now. The woman watched as the transporter hatch closed and the vehicle lifted off the ground, hovering up into the sky before taking off. The woman set her rifle down and stared at the shrinking vehicle as it disappeared over the horizon. Her yellow eyes only shifted away when she heard the familiar sound of metal boots approaching from behind.  
  
“What happened?” His voice tinged with anger broke the resting silence. The woman turned to face her teammate.  
  
“I was distracted by a pesky fly.” She responded coldly. “What about you? I had to save you from that cowboy.”  
  
“I had it under control. You were suppose to keep watch not interfere.” The man in the mask bit back. Small billows of black fog crept out from beneath the skull as his temper rose, but the woman felt no fear at the sight. She stayed silent until the darkness quelled and the man turned to gaze back at the complex which now sat in deaf silence. “Return to base for further orders. The supplies were re-secured. Mission complete despite that ingrate's meddling.”  
  
“Someone you know?”  
  
The question hung in the air. The man looked back at his comrade. Her stone cold face betrayed her curiosity. Rather than answer, the man disappeared in a rise of black smoke, leaving the woman alone on the rooftop.

 


End file.
